Skins: Suffocation
by paperpuddle
Summary: A proposed fourth generation fan fiction, set in the UK Skins universe. Rated M as a precaution. It's a new term at Bristol's fine Roundview College, and a fresh bunch of tearaway teenagers walk the halls, causing devastation in their wake.
1. Gray

This is my first fan fiction, I wrote it on a sort of spur of the moment procrastination towards my University readings. It might end up being a bit heavier than humorous, unfortunately, but I hope it is liked all the same. There will be eight chapters, one for each central character, starting with the lovely, bipolar and angst driven Gray Powell. Forgive any ambiguity - I can't help it (:  


* * *

**Episode 1: GRAY  
**

The alarm went. Wavering in and out of sleep, Gray Powell reached through darkness for his phone – eyes sealed shut – silencing it quickly. With a flicker of his lashes, his muted blue gaze fell into the ceiling. Grating a yawn, kicking off the blankets, he sat up in his bed. There was nothing about this day that would make it any different from the others. Holding on to his breath, he dared it to offer some prospect, some possibility. And he let it out in a sigh.

Swinging his legs over, he eyed a small, dusted line of white, poised on his bedside dresser. It was oh, so tempting. His mind salivated at the sight of it, but that was soon interrupted by a thumping sounding down the end of the hall, pounding closer.

"Shit."

Gray leaned forward, pressing his nose hard against the table surface, snorting up the powder. He stood to stretch, back faced to the door as his mother violently barged in.

"What are you doing?" she asked, peering around her son's room with a certain frustration.

He turned, walking towards a messy pile of clean – or not so – clothes, "just got up."

Glimpsing at her out of the corner of his eye, it was clear that his mother wasn't listening. Gray pulled on a shirt as she started clearing space on his floor with her suede enclosed feet, "oh good, just make sure you finish it on time," she mumbled, etching back out the door, "Lily's up, make sure you get her ready. I'll be home late."

"Okay," he said, rifling his drawers for some jeans, "love you."

The front door slammed. Gray looked up at a rather scathed and dusted mirror, into his reflection, and ruffled his hair at the back, "fuck it." Careless when it came to his appearance, he crawled for the stairs, heading down to the kitchen.

* * *

Though the sun was blinding, the wind frosted against his skin as Gray walked his little sister to school, her little hand clasped in his. Dark ringlets tied with a bow behind her head, Lily looked up at him with wide, smiling eyes, skipping along the pavement.

"… I want to go to college!"

"Still got a few years on you, Lil," he whispered, swinging her arm back and forth, a cigarette lazing in the other hand. He took a drag.

"I hate it when you smoke, you stink."

He smirked, flicking aside the butt, and leaned to her level, blowing his breath in her face. She wrinkled her nose and pushed him away, "ew, stop it Gray! Stop it, you loser!"

"You love me, kiddo, whether I stink or not."

Lily poked her tongue out at him as they came to her school. She tore her hand away and faced him, tightly grasping her fists around her backpack straps "so what are you going to do today then?"

"College, study, maybe jam with Michael later on, the usual," he grunted, hands lazing in his pockets, "I'll be here when school gets out, walk you home."

"My hero," she said with a little roll of the eye.

"Okay, give me love."

Lily hugged him around the waist and ran off into a sea of nondescript kids, looking back over her shoulder to give him a wave before blending in with the masses. Gray waited a moment, kicked a stone onto the road, and moved on.

* * *

By the time he came to college green, his legs were a wobbling mess, crisscrossing and tripping over non-existent holes in the ground. So used to this, Gray didn't take much notice. He stumbled his way toward two laughing lumps beneath a tree, sharing a smoke between them – Xander Tuck and Michael Nomura. He slammed himself on top of the porno mag they were so furiously gagging over.

"What's up, blighters?"

"Powell, where've you been mate, cutting things a bit close aren't you?"

Gray gave Xander a surreptitious smirk, pulling the magazine out from underneath him, "ay, so what's this then – sustained, silent jerking off?"

Michael snatched the pages out of his hands, folding it up and into his bag, "we were practicing our advertisement analyzing skills," the sixteen year old eyed Gray closely, flicking him between the eyes to no reaction, "Gray, you high?"

"Fuck Mick, nah, just tired."

Michael had been his best friend since they were young lads; he was practically a surrogate sibling to both him and Lily, he spent so much time at their place. Rubbing his hand against a bronzed forehead, Michael huffed out a cough. He was skin and bones, not particularly tall – thanks to his dad's genetics – and his spiked black hair sheened blue in particular lights. Lying beside him was what looked to be a child's coffin, holding his prized Fender. Gray nodded in its direction.

"Jam today, mate?"

"Pass, sorry, my mum's gone a little funny lately."

"Suppose that's your plans for the day completely cluster-fucked," said Xander, stretching his hands to rest behind his head, tipping his shades down so he could look Gray in the eyes, "got anything exciting in that head of yours, Powell?"

Gray's lips burst into a grin, face almost in glowing, "well, if we skip –"

"Ahem."

The three boys looked up to find a figure blocking out the sun, its hands clasped firmly behind its back. Displaying a perfect posture and unnaturally controlled smirk, they were met by David Blood – their college director. Slowly, he inspected each boy's face as if to find criminal evidence stained against them.

"_Deeply_ sorry for, ah, interrupting but, Mr Powell," he glowered at Gray, "if you are not present in any of your courses today, I will formally suspend you from college grounds. Mr Tuck, Mr Nomura, you would do well not to go along with your chum's _wild_ ideas either," he lent in slightly, as if he were to tell them a secret, "it would show poor character and arguably unrivalled stupidity."

Beaming, he clapped his hands together, "now, scurry off before I have you reprimanded, and _do_ make Roundview proud," he sniffed the air with a certain possessed dignity, and did not move until the boys stood and headed toward the college building.

Xander cackled loudly, looking over his shoulder back at Blood, "he's such a wank."

"He's alright," said Michael.

They walked inside the college, passing through fellow sixth formers toward the student common, all three of them subtly observing a girl with incredibly short hot pants walk past. Her legs made up for her face.

"How 'bout we head to the stop tonight?" asked Gray, "have a few laughs."

"Can't mate, got a date tonight."

Both Michael and Gray peered over toward Xander, who was nonchalantly scratching his auburn head; "date" was an interesting term to come from his mouth. Coming to the common, they all crashed on a couch, slouched down, legs apart.

"Oh yeah, so who's the unlucky lass?"

"June Cheung."

Gray slipped out of paying attention, staring up at the shining white bulbs above them, eclipsing his sight with black spots. He didn't blink. Nor did he notice Michael get in a fluster over the mentioning of some chick's name._ If light bulbs lived, I wonder if they'd know they were going to die_, he thought, _like we do. _

"June's a bit hard leagued, mate, hence all this date crap. You'd need to spruce up a bit if you wanted to bone her, right," Xander's light hearted tone broke through his senseless spiral, and he looked at his friends, Michael having gone slightly red in the face.

Gray lent over to ruffle his hair, drowsily hugging his shoulder, "oh Mick, you can do way better than any bird who wants to fuck this sorry sod."

Pushing him off, Michael grimaced, dropping his tone so that only Gray could hear, "well that limits my choices by half of college..."

"Thanks Mick!" smiled Xander, overhearing anyway.

An extremely tall bundle tackled on top of them, stretching his long limbs out over the boys, "morning lads!" it said with a deep voice and lopsided smile. They shoved him off and he collapsed to the ground, where Xander fell on top of him, "Teddy boy!" they began a tickle war, pulling Michael down to join, with Gray watching until they ceased. Teddy buttoned up his shirt – having been pulled open in the fight – and sat opposite them, hands clasped in his lap as if he were trying to make himself seem smaller than he was.

"We're going to the stop tonight, Ted –"

"– Except for me –"

"– except for Xander," said Gray, "keen?"

Teddy seemed very enthusiastic about it indeed, explaining how he hadn't just chilled out in such a long time and was looking forward to it, until a blonde girl came and rested beside him, planting a kiss on his cheek. She was half the size of Teddy, with lightly lined eyes, short, straight hair and a thin body draped in a geometric print dress. She greeted the other boys with a half-hearted smile, nuzzling herself into her boyfriend. Xander scoffed at the sight, throwing Teddy a disapproving look, and made to stand – pulling Michael up with him by the scruff of his neck.

"Well we're off to biology, learning about reproduction and all that," he declared, "see you later, mates and Crystal."

They went off and Crystal shrugged, pretending not to be vexed. Gray stood, looking unnervingly between the couple, "yeah, me too, got English. Come tonight, Teds, you too Crystal. Oh, and bring Aimee, yeah?"

Crystal eyed Gray closely as he left with dragging feet, before turning accusingly toward Teddy, flicking her hair as she did, "what's this about?"

He smiled, gently stroking her cheek, "Gray's invited us all out to the stop tonight."

"Why is he so insistent on Aimee being there?" she swatted away his hand, lips pursed.

"Aimee's your best friend, hon. I don't know, maybe Gray likes her…" he reached out to hold her hand in his "… she's a nice girl."

Crystal swiftly shifted away from him, her body tensing up, "you think my best mate's nice? Don't say stuff like that, baby, you don't know what it makes us girls think, you know? I'm sick of all this insensitivity coming from you lately. You never say _I'm_ nice."

Not once did Teddy's sweet smile falter as he gazed at her in adoration, "You are the nicest girl in the world, Crystal Hewitt."

"Yeah, well, whatever, I'm late for Photography."

* * *

Frank was drawling on about the same old, same old, as Gray was wafting in and out of paying attention to his dull teachings. Out in front of him he held his battered phone – missing a few keys, cracked screen, chunks dug out the sides – composing a message. He smirked up over to the opposite side of the room as the text sent off into the stratosphere, contemplative eyes gazing upon the intended receiver. Tenacious and tanned, Lucia looked out of place among the other girls in the class, wearing a baggy band shirt and leaving her black waves uncombed. He watched her read the text, taking a silent moment before cocking her brow at him and shaking her head, a playful smirk resting at her lips.

"_Come_," he mouthed back. He was eager to get her on side for the stop that night. Lucia acted as a sort of mediator; she kept the other girls in their team from teetering too close to any undesirable female discussion. So effortlessly confident, so effortlessly one of the guys, Lucia was a saviour from grace.

** "**Gray, may I ask what you're finding so funny about Donne?"

Relentless, Frank was staring at him, scratching his lion's mane with one hand, and his beer belly with the other, an odd look of expectancy in his expression, "we're all falling over our peanuts to know."

"I thought we were studying _The Tempest_, Frank," muttered Gray, slouching back in his seat, "isn't that one of Billy Shakes'?"

Frustrated, the teacher shook out a sigh and sat on his desktop, "just testing… but put you're bloody phone away, will you? I've got to… discipline you… you know. Christ." He grunted something of a predator's cry before continuing on, purposefully taking no notice to Gray's profuse paper throwing in Lucia's direction.

* * *

"Is mutt going to be there?"

After leaving class Gray followed Lucia down the corridor, trailing a couple steps behind her. He heaved out an agitated sigh, still trying to get her to go out that night, "he's got a date."

Stopping at her locker, Lucia laughed hoarsely, throwing Gray a disbelieving eye, "alright, that's a new term for it," she emptied out the contents of her bag, replacing it with a few items from the space, "I'd love to Gray, you know that, but…" his face fell as she uttered her next words "… I'm heading out for a surf soon, won't be back till tomorrow afternoon."

Slamming his head back against the locker, every second Gray became more disgruntled by his plans not falling together as easily as he thought they would. He looked at her out the corner of his eye, etching closer, pouting ever so slightly.

"Please Lucia."

"Mate, the swell…"

"Luce!"

"Sorry."

She gave him a small smile with a pitying face, gently rubbing her hand over his shoulder before stalking away. Gray watched her go, a glare in his mind – an unaffected expression on the surface. Next thing Teddy would cancel, no doubt because Crystal had turned her nose up at it or him or both, which meant Aimee wouldn't come either. It was so predictable of them all. _No good sods_, he thought, kicking the bottom of a string of lockers, their doors rattling against the brackets.

"Fuck it," and he stormed off down the hall.

* * *

Crystal craned her neck, peeking through glass, arms folded across her chest. She spied at Gray and Lucia, talking closely by the lockers with a curious glint in her eye, lulling her tongue against the inside of her cheeks. She flicked her eyes down at Aimee, sitting, flicking a fashion magazine between her manicured nails.

"I wonder what that's about."

Aimee held her fingers between the pages, twisting over in her seat to look out the window into the hallway, "just Gray and Luce, nothing odd," barely interested, she turned back, her many bracelets and bangles jangling along her wrists as she spread the magazine open again.

"Kind of looks like they're flirting," sniffled Crystal, placing herself alongside her, playing with a short, silver strand of hair and comparing it to Aimee's long, dark curls.

"Why should it bother you? You've got Teddy, remember?" Aimee flicked the pages, sounding somewhere near stricken, her full, glossed mouth unnaturally straight, "good, loving Teddy Neil."

Throwing her a knowing look, Crystal pulled her thin arms over Aimee's shoulders, clinging to them tightly, "oh, _babes_," she cooed, "I'm just a tad worried for you, is all, I mean Teddy Bear and I are just fantastic! But _you_ have _no one_."

A little uncertain as to whether this was an insult or not, Aimee smiled unsurely, flashing her white teeth and hugging Crystal back. She made to say something, but the words caught in her throat and Crystal was gone – skipping towards a group of random boys in their form class, giggling loudly and twirling on the balls of her feet. Aimee looked away, down at her legs, her clothes, at her hair, and back at Crystal with a pang of jealousy. Moving her eyes back to the designer folds, she tried hard not to notice her best friend's antics.

* * *

Gray pushed through an onslaught of people, feeling like spun out shit spewed against the underside of a junkie's shoe. No exaggeration. He threw himself down on a bench, left leg restlessly ticking, and fumbled for a smoke, his lighter and phone. Michael was busy, which was fucking perfect. Times like this, he needed his best friend to bring him up again, to shout "oy, oy, Gray, let's go get us some dresses and pretend to be old ladies in the park," or "Brother, what you up to? There's a gig on in ten minutes, grab your trousers and out you come!" That gig turned out to be a feminist rally though; what a troublesome night. Somewhat maniacally, Gray laughed at the memories.

But the laughter quickly died. He spat, wiped his nose, staring unblinkingly at the ground, that leg still fiercely dancing. He didn't need the pills. He could manage without. His mind was just tricking him, making him feel all these senseless things at once. _It doesn't matter_, he told himself_, another night, another night_.

Unconsciously refocusing, his eyes adjusted as from afar he saw a girl leaning against a tree, seemingly gazing in his direction. He couldn't really tell, he wasn't wearing his contacts, but he thought he'd seen her somewhere before, perhaps around college. Too busy staring at her; he took no notice of his cigarette pressed against his jeans, burning through the denim – smoke singeing into the air.

"Young man," croaked a frog voice, belonging to an old lady beside him, "young man!"

She knocked the side of his head, pointing urgently to the smoke. He looked down, taking a moment to process the picture before cursing and flicking away the weapon. It had just scathed the flesh, wrenchingly raw nonetheless. Cupping his hands over the wound, when he looked up again the girl had gone. From his spot, he didn't move for an hour, still fixated upon the abandoned space near that tree, lost in a daydream.

"Gray?"

The sun was at its highest point in the day; it was getting late. Gray noticed this before he heard the voice, or saw the faces. Aimee and Crystal stood above him, the former wearing a look of concern, the latter one of amusement. His vision shook, and he had to blink a couple of times to correct it.

"Gray, what are you doing here?" asked Aimee again. He smirked at her, dressed in peaches, pinks and creams; she was like a little kitten, her voice a soft purr. He could just see her growing cat ears and a tail.

Clicking her fingers in front of his face, Crystal raised her eyebrows, "don't bother, Aim's. He's _so _totally monged out of his mind."

"I'm not," he whispered, "hey, ah, so tonight?"

"Oh yeah," sighed Crystal, seating down beside him, legs crossed and pointed in his direction, "about that, babes, not gonna happen, is it."

Gray's expression strayed blank, less angry than he thought he'd be and more stewing in a bitter disappointment, "oh."

Looking unsurely between the two of them, Aimee flashed a nervous smile, "Got coursework for design that needs to be done by Friday, we can't really afford to leave it till the last minute –"

"– Yeah so, we'll see you later, love?"

Momentarily placing her hand on his thigh, Crystal stood abruptly and started off, nodding back for a reluctant Aimee to follow. Aimee gave Gray an apologetic smile and bid him farewell, skipping after the blonde, her hair billowing behind her. Gray didn't even give them a second look, standing, stretching and wandering away to nowhere in particular. At least he'd manage to calm down.

* * *

It was a while later yet that Gray arrived home, slurping milkshake through a straw for sustenance, staring down at his feet, rather than up where he was going. When he got to the doorway he was shocked to see his mother standing in the frame, glaring him down like it was a Mexican stand-off. His eyes flickered to behind the door where he saw a tear stained Lily seated on the stairs, clutching her bag to her stomach and looking unbearably miserable. Shit.

"Do you have any idea of the time? In a _meeting_ I get an urgent call from your sister's school asking what sort of a mother I am, that I forgot to pick up my seven year old child," Bryony Powell's face was fuming, contorted with disgust, "_get inside,_ _now_."

"Mum, I –" she'd shoved him inside, slamming the door behind him, the house rattling in the aftershock.

"– I _work_, Gray! I work to keep us going and I ask one thing of you – _one thing_! Take care of your little sister. All you had to do was pick her up from school and walk her home, but you couldn't even manage that! Go tell Lily what was so much more important than her this afternoon," she snapped, eyes burning out of her sockets, "and don't you _dare_ say you had a therapy session! I got an email from Doctor Rollins, notifying me that I was still to be billed for wasting his time. How long have you not be going to those, huh?"

Gray closed his eyes, his hands shaking, "I've just had… I've just had stuff –"

"– Stuff, that's going to be your answer? _Nothing_ is more important than your responsibilities here, to us, to your family. Not college, not your friends, not therapy, nothing! You've wasted _my_ time, your _doctor's_ time, my _money_," she sobbed between her words, "what happened to you? You're just like your –"

"– Don't you _dare_. Don't you fucking _dare_ compare me to him!"

There was silence as he glared at her, teeth clenched. It was broken only by the sound of Lily scrambling upstairs, hands pressed over her ears, her school bag clunking hard to the ground.

"Get out."

Gray gladly pulled open the door and shut it behind him, running down the street, kicking over someone's rubbish and screaming, loud and frustrated, to the setting sun. It was pitch black when Michael found him at their old, tagged bus stop, running in and out of sprinklers, a half empty bottle of vodka in his hands. He shrugged at the sight and walked through the showers towards him.

"Gray," he said.

Taking a swig of the bottle, Gray turned to see Michael, standing in the middle of the sprinklers, his hair flat, dripping wet, clothes soaked "… Gray, what's up?"

Going from smiles to sombre, Gray plonked himself away from the water's line of fire, pulling off his shirt and wringing it dry, "fuck off."

Michael took a deep breath, sitting opposite him, "you're not taking your pills anymore."

"I'm sweet without them, Mick."

"Clearly," there was a pause as their eyes tangled, both unwilling to relent to each other, "… you've got to start seeing your doctor again, man."

"What do you know?"

"Lily called me, says your mum's gone tizzy off her nut," said Michael, concerned, "they're worried."

"Gray, you forgot about _Lily_," he continued quietly, "you've never done that, you've always put her first."

Gray put his shirt back on, face chalk white, eyes blood red, "I know. I just… I just don't need this… shit," he stood, looking away from his friend, "I got you mate, you're all I need to get through. Fuck therapists, and fuck pills."

"Yeah but –"

"It's sorted, then."

Michael gazed at Gray's back for a little while before standing and leaving him by himself, feeling a little at a loss as to what to do for him. Gray knew Michael was right. Things had slowly built up since they'd started at Roundview a month ago; built up to this moment, to this day, to his mania. But he didn't need anyone's help to do that – all he needed was his friend's to stop being such tossers and to just stand by him. He could get himself fine without the mood stabilizers, whether they believed in him or not. He wandered over to the water, staring out over the floating harbour.

_I could end it here, I could, just fuck everything up with a rock tied to my ankle_, he laughed aloud at the thought, _no one would ever find me, and they'd think I just ran away. _His face turned straight, tears glazing over him, _but then that'd be too easy, wouldn't it?_

Turning back, pushing his hands into his pockets, he felt chills freeze over him, feeling an idiot for running through the sprinklers and fountains. He felt unfortunately sober. Or maybe not; metres away he saw what could have been a ghost, stark white in the sprinklers. Shivering, she was drenched, staring in his direction. Slowly, she came closer. Gray recognised her as the girl he'd seen by the tree in the park earlier on in the day, her black makeup ran down her face, smudged around her eyes and her thin, white dress had become see through in her soak. She stopped a person's width before him, gazing into his crying eyes with a dulled expression. So like a porcelain doll, he was unsure if she were real or just a figment of his imagination.

"I don't know why," he rasped pleadingly, "I just can't, fuck, just be a good brother, be a good son, a good friend. Why is it so hard for me and so easy for them? I feel them hate me, cause they can't just _fucking_ _understand_, and see_ me_. Shit, I'm such a whingeing pussy… I can hardly sleep and when I do it's … it's just fucking nightmares and horror clowns and like being raped by an entire, I don't know, you know? So I do the drugs, but then I feel weird, like I'm not me. So I take other drugs, and I feel fine high and happy, but no one's there with me. They just see… they just see it… and they leave."

He looked up at her, choking on his throat, hoping she'd either speak or disappear in an explosion of raindrops. She had kept completely still during his monologue, she might've been a statue, not even a real girl.

"You feel more than them."

Wide-eyed, he was shocked by her response, by the fact that he wasn't hallucinating, and she was really there. She tilted her head, and gazed at the ground before walking off in bare, scarred feet, "that isn't bad. That makes you real."

* * *

Gray came home before dawn, having sobered up, done some thinking and dried himself off. His gut wrenched as he approached the front door, used the key underneath the pot plant and opened it. Other than the chirp of birds, and the soft sprinkling of a hazy morning light, all was quiet. He snuck upstairs, knocking on his mother's door, to find it swing open, the bed already made and empty.

"She went to work to make up for the time she took off last night," said a tiny yawn from the door frame behind him.

Lily was in her pyjamas, hair plaited behind her head, her face a little puffy. He stepped over to her, kneeling down to be at the same eye level, "I'm –"

"Don't say you're sorry," she said, "I've already forgiven you. But only if you do something for me."

Dumbfounded, Gray's mouth slid agape, "yeah, sure Lil, anything. Name it, I'll do it."

That morning Gray made his little sister's breakfast, packed her school bag, made sure she had her sport kit and walked her out of their family home, like always. He carried her atop his shoulders, her black buckled shoes hitting against his chest as he walked uneven ground. Coming to her school, he slid her down over his head and knelt to play punch her cheek.

She smiled up at him, "you smell much better now."

"Only for you kiddo," he said, "Now give me love."

Lily wrapped her arms around his neck, and he hugged her back. She ran off into the school building, looking back only to wave. Waiting a moment, gazing after her retreating form, Gray smiled.

**END  


* * *

**

**Next Chapter: LUCIA**


	2. Lucia

_Hello! Chapter's won't generally be uploaded this quickly, I don't think, once I start focusing on what I actually need to be doing (yeah, okay, sure). I'm going to try to manage one a week, however. Anyway, this episode revolves around Lucia Valente, our stereotypically chilled, dope smoking surfer who isn't bothered by much that goes on around her. So yes, please review, if you want to, and enjoy. _

_And I don't own Skins or Disney's The Little Mermaid. Though life would be much better if it were an animated musical, wouldn't it?  


* * *

_**Episode 2: LUCIA**

Ocean waves crushed down on top of her, throwing her body against the tide, dancing in the throw of a salt water surge. There was no greater feeling. Gasping, Lucia Valente broke through the sea's surface as its violent song came to an end. Blinking through red eyes, she swam for her board and pulled it back to shore, limping. Reaching shallow waters, she grunted in pain, collapsing on the sand. A mighty gash stared up at her from the sole of her foot. Wincing, she clasped her hand around it, trying to keep the blood from pouring out. Mustering the mental capacity, she let go, pushed herself up, and continued her way up the beach.

Sitting upright on a stretcher, Lucia watched the lifeguard bandage her foot. It stung like nothing else, but she'd felt worse. All was well, she'd had a good surf and it wasn't like she was without herbal medication. Now, _that _would be pain.

"Just stay off it, maybe go to a hospital tomorrow and get it checked out," grunted the lifeguard, who was beginning to feel like a foot masseuse, "just in case. And I'd stay away from the game for about a week or two."

"Oh mate," she smiled, shaking her head, "too long. Can't make any promises with that."

"Hey, it's not mine," he sighed, stretching his arms over the back of his head, "you'll be the one risking further damage to it."

"It's worth it."

He smirked at her defiance, turning around to put away his utensils. She tilted her head in appreciation of him. Skin bronzed, hair bleached by the sun, he probably had a good ten years on her – not that it mattered when he had a body like that.

"Busy day?" she asked, looking back down at her injury like it was a heaven sent blessing.

"Slow as a fucking snail, you were the only one on the beach."

"Wanna sesh, then? I have a few hours to kill before my ride gets here."

The tower heated quickly with the marijuana aroma, Lucia laughing the sand of her bare stomach to the floor, the life guard lighting up a fresh roll. Their eyes glazed and twinkling, she crawled over to him, stealing it from between his fingers. Taking a while to notice, once he did he pointed to her in accusation, rolling over on top of her, inhaling the fumes she blew into his mouth.

"Woah," he whispered, "What are you?"

Bursting into giggles, she reached her hands behind her neck, pulling out the strings keeping her bikini on, "too high to get hard?" discarding it, she delved her lips into his, two waves colliding against each other. Good surf – good bud – good fuck; in that order.

* * *

All smiles, Lucia closed the front door, resting her head on the stained glass window with a sense of relief to be home. Biting her lip, she hopped forward to the kitchen, sprawling herself on the wooden countertop, reaching for the fruit bowl. Shoving a pear into her mouth, she felt the sweet juices flow down her throat, staring at a formidable fixture of the Virgin Mary, moonlight scintillating over her ceramic neck.

"Where have you been, Lucia?"

Choking on her mouthful, Lucia hadn't noticed a small shadow watching, arms folded, from the dining table. She looked at her aunt with a little surprise as she craned her face into the light.

"Oh, uh, hey Maria Jovita," she smiled, looking down at the pear and outstretching it toward her, "it's good, do you want a bite?"

She could sense the outburst coming from the moment she'd made the offer; it was only a matter of calculated time before Maria Jovita exploded into a fury of Portuguese profanities. Beginning with that it was God's Day, it was Sunday, why she hadn't been at Church and then – her face contorting in a concerned horror – her injured foot. Lucia calmly retorted that it was fine and that she'd see her in the morning, kissing her on the cheek, limping out the back door toward the garage. Finally free – inside her segregated sanctuary of a room – she collapsed on the bed, its blue covers wrinkled, thrown and blanketed by an influx of pillows. And she slept.

* * *

Gagging on her cornflakes, Lucia swirled her stool so she wouldn't have to play witness to Maria Jovita's tender worship of Xander, her one and only son – her motherfucking pride and joy. She made a mental note to start skipping breakfast inside the house, and to just eat in her room so to avoid such blind affection being thrown toward her undeserving wank of cousin. A slow smile crept to her lips as, stifling laughter, she spotted a scantily clad girl creep down the staircase – from Xander's room no doubt – out of her beloved aunt's line of sight.

"Hey Ashleigh, want some breakfast?" she called loudly, waving the girl over.

Maria Jovita's face stiffened, her fingers uncoiling from Xander's shoulders as she approached the horrified girl, her expression something similar to a possum caught in the headlights. It happened very quickly; the shrill screeches, the whipping of a tea towel directing Xander's poor victim off the property. Standing in the doorway, her copper hair flying out of its bun, the infuriated woman frightened the girl into a full forced flee down the street.

Smirk planted firmly across her face, Lucia went to wash her bowl in the sink, exchanging amused looks with her cousin, who was trying hard not to laugh himself. His mother stormed in, glowering at him, stepping threateningly forward – causing his face to fall.

"_Alexander Antonio Valente Tuck!_"

Taking that as her cue to leave, Lucia slipped her bag over her shoulder, sprinting toward the door as stealth as she could with her lagging limb. She wasn't about to risk enduring Maria Jovita's wrath, not after she was done disposing of her son's remains.

* * *

Frank had their English class quietly discussing the play amongst themselves, not that Lucia and Gray were much focussed on the trivialities of theatrical illusion. Using their books as shields from the teacher's eye line, they were pulling mushed, silly and elaborate faces at each other.

"What the fuck do you call that?" she giggled, dark eyes smiling at what seemed to be an impersonation of a brain deficient duck.

Fumbling out of it, he nudged her knee with his, "I call that winning."

Gray's pupils sharpened, gazing through Lucia to the classroom door where, carelessly slouched, was a porcelain skinned bird – white and lovely – her hazel eyes flicking indifferently over his paused expression. And then she looked away, finding a seat and staring into her lap without gifting him a second glance.

"Are you gonna come to Michael's later?" asked Lucia.

Gray ignoring her question, she quickly took notice of his sudden slip in attention, twisting to see what had him so enraptured. Seemingly it was the Chapman girl, who'd just walked in late. Tilting her head, lips curving in interest, she had no idea Gray even knew her.

"What do you think it means when you go everyday seeing someone, never noticing them," his voice croaked, "and then, for no apparent reason, at all, they're suddenly everywhere?"

* * *

Clanging her sticks irritably against the cymbals whilst Michael tuned his guitar, Lucia eyed the spliff hanging from between his lips, "mate, don't be greedy."

"Sorry," he said, pulling it out and passing it over. She may have been mistaken, but she swore she detected a slight sulk in the back of his throat, quite unlike him.

A little lacklustre, he'd flattened out his hair, the blue black dye fading, mingling with his returning brunette strands. He wore black sweats and a questionably clean singlet, showing how his small biceps flexed as he strung his Fender's chords. Owing it to his half Japanese parentage, Michael had an enviable metabolism and was skinnier than half the anorexics at Roundview. Xander often teased him about his boyish body, average height and lack of generic attractiveness, but he wasn't usually affected by it. It made her wonder what could upset him, when she'd always thought him – somewhat – emotionally indestructible.

"Xander went on a date with June."

"June?"

"Cheung," he sighed, staring blankly ahead, fingers still on the frets, "and, had sex with her obviously."

Lucia considered the frustrated crease in his forehead and the cautious biting of his lip, "yeah," she said, "he usually does. Have sex with them I mean."

He moaned in exasperation, "Do you think he ever stops and thinks maybe he shouldn't?"

"Maybe he shouldn't, what?"

"Do it with who he likes whenever he likes," he muttered, burying his face in his hands.

Halving her eyes, Lucia gave him a knowing smile, leaning forward over the drum kit, "do you like June Cheung, Mickey?"

"Yes, no, well," he ran his fingers through his hair, looking at her confusedly, "I did but –"

Lucia rolled her eyes, "then why didn't you do something about it, ay?"

"It's not like it matters much now," he said sharply, "she's already gone and done him."

"A week ago she hadn't," she pointed out, "a week ago my cousin and his tiny, uncircumcised cock had no intention of violating June Cheung's –"

"– _Okay_, okay, I get it! I'm a coward."

"Yes, you are a coward," she smiled, gazing over his conflicted face with a little pity, "when you like someone, Michael, you go for it. Don't matter about Xander or anyone else, just take a risk and make a move."

Trying hard not to make eye contact, a funny look came over Michael as he set down his guitar, squirming in his seat, "what if… what if I do and then, I find something out?"

"Huh?"

"… What if I do make a move and I find out, you know, or – or I already know that she, this _hypothetical_ girl I may fancy, has been with one of my friends?"

Dark eyes meeting hers, they seemed to be pleading in the following silence.

"I understand that it might be hard for you to believe, but not every chick in Bristol wants to or has fucked Xander," she rasped, unblinking.

He stood, turning his back on her, dawdling over to his vinyl collection, piled high on a bench top, "It's not Xander I'm talking about…"

With a plethora of laughter and rambling shouts, the basement door swung open for Gray, Xander and Teddy to stomp down the steps, clutching large bottles of booze to their hearts. Michael's eyes widened as if to ask what they were doing there; Lucia losing the chance to press him any further on what they were discussing.

"So, are we going to do this shit or what?" asked Xander, displaying an array of what looked to be Disney animated films.

Teddy's face was beaming as he grasped Michael into a tight grip, "sup Mickey! I vote we start with _The Little Mermaid, _I love the crab."

"Ah, what's going on?"

"Disney drinking game, mate," called Xander, skipping toward the dust covered television set, "thought I told you?"

"You didn't," sighed Michael, rubbing his eyes as if heavily exhausted, "hey Gray," he muttered as Gray hugged him by the neck, leading him to the old, low seated couch. On the way, he grabbed Lucia from the drums. Arms stretched over the backs of their shoulders, he sat between them, resting his feet up on the small mahogany excuse for a coffee table.

"What you waiting for Tuck," he coughed, "let's get on the piss, already."

"Excuse you, you're waiting for _us_?"

The group gazed as Crystal and Aimee entered, the former giving Teddy a suggestive wink, letting go of Aimee's hand to embrace him. Lucia reached out and waved Aimee over, patting the empty seat beside her, "you look nice Aim's," she said, looking her up and down.

"Thanks Luce," she replied with a slight blushing to her cheeks, twiddling with the cuffs of her sheer candyfloss coloured blouse.

Girls didn't generally take too kindly to Lucia – due to her popularity with the boys – but she didn't mind most of the time, because she didn't take too kindly to girl's herself. However, even though she could be considered the shy one in the flock, she liked Aimee. There was something sweet, if not intrinsically beautiful about her.

"Okay!" Xander said through the isolated murmurs, filling up cups and lining them before the players, "the rules are…"

An hour into _The Little Mermaid_ and things were way past blurry, Gray's head rested on Lucia's shoulder, both of them laughing to Aimee's dancing in front of them with Xander – re-enacting the song's as they came on screen. Michael had given up playing the game, and was mixing violent alcoholic concoctions, forcing Teddy to test them out. Crystal looked on, teetering a little, part of her drink spilling on the rug, oddly silent for someone usually so flamboyant.

"What the hell did you put in this, man?" choked Teddy, his face twisted in disgust.

Though revelling in seeing Aimee out of her shell, Lucia noticed Crystal abandon her boyfriend, sitting down on the other side of Gray, taking a hefty gulp of her drink. Pretending not to be paying attention, Luce kept her head forward, her eyes watching as Crystal's hand flittered to Gray's knee, stroking it lightly.

"Gray, want to go out for a smoke?" she asked.

Just realising she was there, Gray lifted his head slightly, "yeah, I gave up, didn't I?"

"Since when?" she scoffed in disbelief, flicking her side swept fringe out of her eyes.

"Last week," he said, a little smile tugging at the corners of his lips, as if he was somewhere else entirely, "oh, fuck! They're ignoring the crab again, skull!"

Lucia watched Crystal's eyes glower as she got up and twisted back to Teddy, leaning down to whisper something in his ear. He nodded – a broad grin flashing his face – she giggled, taking his hand and bringing him to stand, much to Michael's distress.

"Yeah so we're going to head off now, lovers," she sung, Teddy bowing down to kiss the top of her head, "catch you laters?"

"What?" Aimee stopped dancing around in circles, eyes widening, "now?"

"Yes," beamed Crystal, already leading Teddy up the stairwell, "you lot have fun now."

Once they'd gone, Lucia shoved Gray off of her, glancing at him curiously as she refilled her glass. She hadn't really ever noticed before how flirtatious Crystal was around him, it made her wonder whether Gray did either. Shaking her head, her eyes met Michael's from across the room, a strange expression across his brow, his eyes flicked from her to Gray. It was quick, almost non-existent, and then he was back to juicing lemon into cognac.

"Why the fuck's it gone so quiet?" boomed Xander, grasping Aimee's waist from behind. She aptly pushed him off.

* * *

Lamps lit their way through the dark route home, Lucia grasping onto Xander's arm to keep him from stumbling into the gutter. As they came to their street, she cut through his nonsensical slurs at how Ariel was the hottest Disney princess and how he'd "_so totally bone her, tail and all_."

"Do you think you could lay off Michael a bit?"

"What do you mean _primo_?"

"Intentionally going after the girl's he fancies," she said, slowing down their pace.

"It's his own bloody fault," Xander retorted, a dry cackle in his throat, "I'm actually helping him out! He never does anything or says anything, one day my _genius_ plan will succeed and he'll wake up next to a fiery tattooist named Hilda…" he paused, shooting up straight as if suddenly sober, his laughter becoming louder, "you're such a fucking hypocrite, you know."

"What?"

She removed her support, letting him fall to the concrete. Struggling to pull himself back up again, his laughter reverberated off the houses, "you fucked Gray."

"What does that have to –"

Finding his feet, his face shifted into something frighteningly serious, "don't play dumb, Lucia, you've known Michael's liked you for fucking ages and you _still_ banged Gray."

She frowned, blinking away from him, "it wasn't like that."

"Yeah it was," he said, leaving her by the letterbox as he fumbled for his keys in the black, "fuck. And you go on about _me _being bad for the kid's self-esteem."

* * *

Through glass, a silent motion picture, the two boys' mouths moved – smiles here, head shakes there – playful punches, all to an eerie quiet. They were best friends. On the other side, spectating the live screening, Lucia's jaw shook in uncertainty, brown irises resting on Michael's elated expression, the little movement his hands made, acting out whatever it was he was relating back to Gray. She couldn't do it. She couldn't just stroll into the commons and act like things hadn't changed, like her perspective on things hadn't been altered overnight. None of this ever really used to bother her. _What's changed_, she asked herself, _is it me, or everyone else around me? _

She gazed down to her still bandaged foot, feeling like it was more of a curse now than anything. Breathing in deeply, she exhaled, and walked through, throwing her bag to the floor and sitting down with Michael and Gray.

"Morning men, what's the hot topic?"

"I spoke to June," said Michael, hardly able to contain his excitement, "turns out she never slept with Xander, and the date was awful apparently!"

"Probably why we never heard of the conquest like we usually do," chimed Gray, itching his ear and looking over at Luce. She gave him a small, unconvincing smile.

"Oh, y-yeah?" she mentally slapped herself, was that a stutter? Did her voice honestly just quiver?

"To cut it short and sweet for you, I scored a date with her! Me!" he yelped, his hands clenching into epileptic fists. He was like a little boy on Christmas or Easter.

She managed to mask her shock quick enough for neither of the boy's to notice, replacing it with a toothy grin, "Fucking A, mate! Congrats!"

Hoisting his bag over his shoulder, Michael's face reddened as he stood, "I swear, she cured my hangover, June did. I'm going to the library to finish some coursework off; I want heaps of time to plan what I'm going to do with her. I don't think I've ever been this happy before."

As he walked away, she slumped in her seat, quietly groaning and rubbing her temples. Remembering Gray was beside her, she looked to him quickly, only to find he wasn't even fully conscious of her being there. _It's hard to know when he's high and when he isn't these days_, she thought, glancing over his tranquil expression, his eyes even more glazed than usual.

He was staring at her again; the chick from their English class. Lucia looked from him to her, bothered by her lack of knowledge concerning the two, and frustrated by the fact that she was bothered by it, "what's the deal then, Gray?"

"Uh, nothing…" he turned to her quickly, "hey, how's your foot?"

"Barely hurts anymore. I'm hoping it'll be fine enough to hit the waves again this weekend."

"Cool," he whispered, looking back to the girl, still refusing to acknowledge his existence. Clearing his throat, he stood, "I'm going to get my sister. Love you, Luce."

"Yeah… love you too, mate."

* * *

"_What the fuck!_"

It was white. Everything was too fucking white. Her bed was gone, the furniture too, all her clothes, her stuff, her surfboard; it was an empty space covered in plastic and fresh, white paint. Lucia, holding onto the doorknob for balance, tried to take it all in, honing in on Maria Jovita, rolling the dripping substance over the garage walls, humming a saintly hymn.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm turning this space into a prayer room, so that every Sunday the family can have God time," she said, neglecting to face her niece.

_It's conclusive_, thought Lucia, burning her stare through the back of aunt's head, _she's lost it, she's a fucking psycho._

"Well where I am I gonna go?"

"Inside the house of course, we have all been living in sin, Lucia, apart from one another. If we are to conquer the devil we must do it together, we must strengthen our bonds, so the Lord has told me."

"What does Travis think about this?"

Maria Jovita looked at her, dusting her hands over her paint splattered denim overalls, "it is a surprise for when he comes home from Portugal."

"… Portugal?" Lucia furrowed her brow, not understanding, "I thought he was in London? What's uncle doing there?"

Pursing her lips down to the wrinkle and scale of a prune, her aunt returned to her work, "Your things are in the spare bedroom upstairs."

Gasping for air, feeling like it had been torn out from her lungs, Lucia gave her aunt one last withering glare before slamming the garage door behind her. Upstairs, she hovered between the hallway and the spare room. It didn't feel like hers. It had taken her almost an entire year to get used to the old sleeping quarters. Sniffing, she stepped inside, surveying her new surroundings. Her surf board scraped up against the wall, the single bed unmade – the sheets folded atop it – boxes of her things mazing the floor. She shook her head, walking toward the window, nonchalantly gazing over elderly couple walking the street, their hands clasped together.

She didn't like being thrown into this fabricated family scene; it was suffocating.

* * *

Sinking toes into sand, Lucia lay watching the waves crush in, flow out, leaning back on her elbows, a spliff in hand. The clouds were grey, but families still sauntered along the beach. Two young boys rebuilt the sand castle their sister had just ploughed through, throwing sneers at her every couple of minutes as she sat sour faced with their parents. She pressed the joint to her lips, inhaling, despising how everything she saw lead her back to thoughts of her, Michael and Gray, especially seeing as they were probably none too worried themselves – the useless pricks.

Even though she was without her board (in all fairness the surf was shit, so she didn't really mind) she still liked to be there, to escape from the city, from the Tuck's and from her friends. It felt good to be close to the sea.

"I never did catch your name."

The lifeguard smirked down at her – the one she'd screwed senseless earlier that week – his, from memory, rippling torso covered in a bright yellow raincoat. Lucia tentatively smiled.

"I'm being good," she declared, nodding her head at her bandaged foot, "staying off it for a while," she paused, "might even stray from the surf for a bit longer than you advised…"

"… Do you want a puff?" she asked him, holding out the spliff she so casually smoked.

"Can't," he said, amused, "I'm on duty, actually."

"Bummer."

"You love the water," he stated, not a question, his eyes dancing over every inch of her face, "you just need a lil' break from it. Nothing to be ashamed of, it'll still be here when you get back. Just, don't put on a couple of stone while you're gone. I'd hate to see that body of yours gone to waste."

Arching her brow at him, she snuffed the joint out, getting to her feet, "alright."

"I'm not getting your name, am I?"

"You don't want it," she laughed, placing her hands in her jacket pockets, stalking away.

"I think I'll be the judge of that!" he called after her.

Stopping in her tracks, she turned back to him, "I'm seventeen, mate!"

"Don't care," he smirked, a smirk oozing in confidence, "you're fantastic."

She continued on her way, stumbling toward the car park, wondering why she ever did half the things she did. She knew the answer without needing to think on it. _It's because you're young,_ a tiny voice said to her, snappy, strangely in Portuguese, _that, and you're more of an idiot than you know. _

"… Don't you want to know _my _name?"

**END  


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**Next Episode: TEDDY**


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